“Yes, it is. He went to Vermont because his parents retired there. Why would he come back here?”
“How many times have you caught your mom looking through old pictures or watching tapes from your childhood or their wedding video?” Brianna challenged.
“One time.” Nicole made a face, remembering the evening about a year ago, when she’d walked in on her mother doing just that. “Yeah, I think she regrets the divorce.”
“And so does he,” Brianna said.
“You’ve met the man once.”
“Twice,” she corrected, flipping back her fat blond braid. “I met him at graduation and another time when I went to Stowe with a ski club, remember? You arranged for me to have dinner with him.”
“And you asked him a million questions about being in the Olympics,” Nicole recalled. “He loves talking about his glory days.”
“And his life. After all, he’s my bestie’s dad, so I was interested. When he talked about Cindy…well, I swear I could see a little sadness in his eyes.”
“I don’t know,” Nicole said, her heart tightening at the thought of her parents still loving each other.
Brianna pointed at her. “One month, Nic. Surely he’d do that for you and his…his ex-family at Snowberry.”
She searched her friend’s face, thinking hard about the possibility. They had all promised to do whatever they could to help. Wasthisthe idea that might actually work? Dad back at Snowberry on the sleigh?
She turned as the front door opened. “Customers,” she whispered. “Let’s focus on something thatwillmake us money.”
“You know it could work, Nic.”
It could. But Dad coming back to Park City was about as likely as her barreling down a black diamond run. “Great idea, Bri, but it’s not happening. Let’s drop it.”
The family of four needed two sets of skis, poles, boots, and their little girl wanted to buy a North Face jacket—and they were on sale as of a few hours ago, so the mom got one, too.
The minute the shoppers left—after racking up a lovely four-figure receipt—Brianna slid next to Nicole at the cash register.
“I can’t,” Brianna confessed.
“You can’t what?”
“Drop it.”
Nicole exhaled a laugh. “Well, you’re wasting your time.”
“He’s retired, right? Not doing color commentary anymore?” she pressed. “What does he have to do over the holidays?”
She had no idea what a sixty-year-old former ski champion did with his free time now that he was done with broadcast television “Ski, I imagine, if the Stowe lifts are working and there’s snow.”
“He could ski here. We don’t call it ‘the greatest snow on Earth’ for nuthin’.”
“True,” Nicole agreed. Few things thrilled her dad more than skiing in Utah.
Born and raised right here in Park City, Jack Kessler had grown up bombing down these slopes, joining the junior racing circuit as a kid. By sixteen, he’d had a spot on the U.S. Ski Team development roster and a reputation as a local idol. As an adult, he competed all over the world, including two times at the Olympics, though he never medaled.
An injury sidelined his career and a holiday job interview at Snowberry introduced him to the woman he’d marry.
What would it take for him to come back?
“Go get him,” Brianna insisted on a whisper, as if she could follow Nicole’s train of thought. “Lure him to Park City with promises of hot cocoa and a horse-drawn sleigh—and the best skiing in the country. He could be a hero, save the lodge, and have the Christmas of his dreams.”
She stared at her friend, hating that the idea actually…could work.
“But my mother…”
